Yet, Never You
by 96packofcrayons
Summary: (College AU) Castiel Novak is simple. He's clever and a bit anti-social, sure, but he's simple. Whereas Dean Winchester, well, he's a jock, sleeps with chicks without knowing their names, liked by everyone. Living across the hall from each other wasn't easy. How could it be; they're polar opposites. Of course, they forgot the fact that opposites always attract.
1. Chapter 1

It was still dark when his phone, shoved carelessly under his pillow, began to ring. Dean Winchester's entire pillow vibrated, interrupting his already short sleep. Insomnia wasn't granting him any mercy, hadn't for months, so he treasured the sleep he had. Phone calls stealing it from him were bound to end poorly.

Yanking it from under the pillow, Dean glanced at the time before answering the call. "It is goddamn five in the morning. What do you want?" he hissed into the speaker.

"Dean?" said the girl who worked with the dorm office. Had he slept with her? No, but he'd taken her out, hadn't he?

A bit less harshly, he answered, "Yeah, Jen?"

When she spoke, Dean heard the smile in her voice. Thank God, he'd guessed her name correctly. "You know how we don't like one guy in a two-guy room, right?" Without waiting for an answer (he was going to say no), she continued. "Well, we don't. Right now, you're one of them, and we need to fix that. So we're moving you."

Still too tired, he didn't process her words right away. Sam, his younger brother, had moved out to an apartment with his boyfriend, leaving him alone in the dorm room they'd shared. It was strange they were moving him out altogether and not just waiting to put in a freshman or something in to fill the space, but to have a room to himself? He didn't bother questioning it. "But why move me?" he muttered, rubbing his eye.

Jen sighed, as if it was obvious and he was too slow to understand. Maybe he was. "When you moved in you said, if need be, we could move you. So here we are, moving you. Your new dorm room is in the single dorm hall, number 1127. You're not the only one moving, so if there're boxes in the hall when you get there, it's because we just threw another guy in 1130. Be out by seven tonight."

At this, she hung up.

Rude.

Dean sat up and looked around the room. A mess. If he were going to be out by seven, he'd need to start now. But maybe a coffee first.

-•-•-

He had come here with Sam. Dean would get a coffee and Sam would ignore the little Seattle's Best completely, heading directly to what took up most of the building: the library. Dean would watch him disappear among the shelves, sipping at his coffee until he emerged again, carrying a pile of books half his size.

That wasn't the only consistent thing, however. Every morning he was served by that too-cheerful gut with the dark hair and the deep-but-happy voice and the crystalline blue eyes. Eventually when he walked in with Sam, the guy would smile and start preparing what he always ordered. No words were ever spoken apart from what he considered to be their usual.

"Tall black, please, to go."

"Here, that'll be two seventy-six."

"Thanks. Why do you always make me use pennies? Is this your way to make me give you a tip?"

"I'm paid by the hour, sir."

"…I'm not sure I believe you, but here, keep the change."

The guy would smile. "Thank you. Have a nice day."

Dean started smiling back. "Thanks. You too."

That's how it was.

But today, it was different. When Dean entered, looking around the library, he was alone. Coffee Guy noticed as he put the Styrofoam cup to fill up with Dean's usual. "Hey, wait," Dean called over as the guy almost pressed the button. He waited as the leather jacket-clad man walked over. "I want it here, and a Venti."

The guy was obviously fairly surprised, but he switched the foam cup with a larger red mug. Dean watched it turn black as it filled. "That's pretty cool," he said, attempting small talk while they waited for his mug to fill.

The guy hummed curiously. "Oh, you mean the mug? The color changes with heat, I think. Maybe." He laughed. "I'm not actually sure, but your total is—"

Dean's stomach made a noise.

A loud one.

The guy grinned. "We've got bagels."

When Dean just smiled, he said, "Right, well, your total is four sixty," and handed him a bagel—everything.

The hand that reached out to take it was large. "How'd you know I'd want this kind?" he asked, the remainder of his smile still on his lips.

The guy shrugged. "Lucky guess, I suppose," he replied, sliding the full mug across the counter. "It's hot. Don't drink it—"

Dean took a sip and winced, panting.

"…Don't drink it now, it'll burn your tongue," Coffee Guy finished.

"Thanks for telling me that earlier, dumbass."

"It's Castiel," the guy corrected him. "My name's Castiel."

Another sip. It wasn't so bad now. _What kind of name is Castiel? _Dean wondered to himself, studying him. "Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked, taking another gulp of coffee.

Castiel shrugged, moving to wipe at the counter. His movements, Dean couldn't help but notice, were fluid, almost graceful. "Maybe," he answered vaguely in a tone that implied that the last thing he wanted was for Dean to have recognized him.

This guy was weird.

But he liked him.

Blue eyes rose, met green ones.

Yeah. He liked him.

Green Eyes cleared his throat. "Is it from class? What college you go to?"

Blue eyes rolled. "Washington State. Obviously. I live here."

Exasperated sigh. "Well, what are you majoring in?"

"Pediatrics. What about you?" Castiel asked.

Dean's smile was proud. "_Grammatica. _Also known as linguistics."

Then the coffee was gone. Dean muttered a curse.

"Got something to do?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah, gotta move. My brother moved out of our room, so I've been switched into a single."

Coffee Guy gave him a curious look. "Me, too."

Dean returned it. "Weird," he commented, not sounding as interested as he had before. Nodding at Castiel, he thanked him and headed out the door. Fingers closed around the handle of the mug.

It was red again.

-•-•-

Off in the distance, the church's clock tower struck six. Dean collapsed onto a box of books. That was a bitch to clean. He had barely eaten all day. His fingers were tired and his arms were sore, and he still needed to take all these damn boxes down to the hallway with the single rooms. At least, however, they were all in the hallway. Maybe he could call Sam to get some help? Nah.

"Hey, yo, Dean!" a girl's voice called. This one was familiar, and he turned with a grin.

"Jo!" Dean shouted, relieved at the sight of the blonde at the other end of the long hall, heading toward him. "Any way you could get me some kind of cart or somethin'?"

She shrugged, stopping in front of him and surveying the boxes, haphazardly filled and stacked. "I could snatch a shopping cart."

The ceiling suddenly becomes fascinating when sarcasm is involved. Dean's eyes rolled up to look at it. "That'd be crap. Just help me out with the lighter stuff, will ya?"

Her shoulders rise and fell once more, just as indifferent, and lifted his box of sheets as he grabbed his textbooks, leaning back in an attempt to stay balanced and praying he'd make it to the elevator. Without collapsing.

They repeated this process.

Dean huffing as he hefted the heavy things into his arms and lugged them down the hall.

Jo smirking as she took the clothes and the pillows and casting amused glances Dean's way.

And then every box was in room 1127. Jo hugged him and he thanked her as she strolled back down the hall. Dean watched her until she disappeared around the corner before reentering his new room. It was quite a bit smaller than the one he'd shared with is brother, with a little kitchen-y place that only had a cheap microwave, a mini fridge, a sink, and a few cupboards. It was obviously expected that he go dine somewhere else on campus, which he didn't mind, but still, he was quite the lazy man and probably would just stock up on mac 'n' cheese and ramen noodles. Probably. Not like he made girls breakfast anyway.

Or any meal, for that matter.

Why should he?

They came for sex, not for cheap cooking.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel strolled down the hall to his new room, where he'd been situated in for just under a week. He still wasn't quite as accustomed to it as he had been to the one he'd shared with his brother Gabriel, but still. It was small and cozy and it reminded him of his old room at home.

A girl stumbled out of the room across the hall from his. She appeared slightly… What word was he looking for? _Discombobulated. _A tag stuck out at the collar of her shirt; it was on backward, her skirt was askew. Who lived there? Castiel didn't know, but he really didn't know how to treat a lady.

"Excuse me," Castiel said to her, resting a hand on her arm. She looked up at him.

Smelled like sex.

Looked tired.

Sounded even worse as she rasped, "What's up?" Voice out from screams and moans.

She did look nice, though.

"Would you like me to get you a coffee? I'll pay," he offered.

Her hair, long and dark in a sloppy ponytail, bounced as she shook her head. "No, thank you. I'm okay." And she passed him and walked down the hall.

This wasn't the only time that happened. Practically every other night Castiel would see a girl exit that room, offer her coffee only to be rejected. Then he'd pause before opening his door, staring at the one across the hall and wondering what kind of sad man went through women so quickly and not caring about how they felt or how small it made him. Castiel wondered how insignificant that man saw himself to be and soon was overwhelmed in an ocean of sympathy.

People should never feel that alone, Castiel decided, entering his room and depositing his bag on his desk. And if they ever do, they shouldn't just go girl to girl until they don't. They should find someone they love. Or wait for someone they love to find them.

~•~•~

He found out who was in that room.

Castiel hadn't expected the man with the forests for eyes. Yet, there he stood, kissing that girl against the door. Castiel didn't mean to stare but he found himself doing so anyway.

The girl was very sexual throughout the kiss, running her hands along him and touching his ass and taking his hand and placing it on her breast. He just seemed lazy. His hands, placed on her hips, didn't do a thing. He didn't move much; just let her do the work. A few moments later he pushed her off and muttered, "Look, I'm tired." She looked a bit upset and irritated before walking away.

To Castiel, it looked dismal.

What a wretched way to live.

If that's what your life had become, why even try?

And that thought really got to him, and Castiel walked up to the man and grabbed his forearm. He winced, then glared at him.

Green eyes bleak.

Tone weary.

"What do you want?"

Realized who it was.

Relaxed a tad.

Castiel didn't let him go, but loosened his grip. "To know your name."

_I have no idea what I'm doing._ He thought. _None whatsoever. What am I doing? I don't know him. _

A beat of hesitation, then, "Dean. Dean Winchester," he told him. "You're Castiel, right?"

"Yes."

"Alright then." He opened his door. "Nice talking to you again, Castiel."

_What am I doing? _Castiel bit his lip and tugged Dean back. "Wait."

And then those eyes pierced his own again and he wanted to catch the breath as it leapt from his chest but couldn't. He was trapped, trapped and suddenly lost. Now what? What was he going to say? What could he say? What could he do? He couldn't think. Not with those jewels blazing at him, fires barely contained within his irises.

For a man who seemed so lazy only moments before, he really did know how to kiss.

_Castiel was kissing Dean._

_Dean was kissing Castiel._

_How the hell did this happen?_

Not that he didn't want to be kissing Dean. Hell, he hadn't even realized he'd been picturing, imagining these lush lips against his own, praying it would one day happen. Now it was. Dean's fingertips trailed up Castiel's spine, tangled in his dark, unruly hair, while his own hovered hesitantly on Dean's waist, under his worn leather jacket. Dean smelled like pine, pine and campfires. It was intoxicating, could probably get him higher than drugs. They should have stopped kissing, they should have nodded and gone about their daily business and forget this kiss even happened, but no. They just kept moving their lips, panting, sighing, wondering what the fuck was going on. Neither of them knew. What did it matter, though? Dean was lonely, Castiel was… well, Castiel didn't really know why he'd kissed Dean, but now they were, and what else really mattered apart from that, right now?

Dean was the first to really come to his senses, peeling his lips from Castiel's with wide eyes. Castiel scurried back a few steps, mumbling apologies. He was in the middle of saying, "I don't know what happened," when those tender lips gently silenced him.

Oh, how he longed to be hushed in the same way every day.

Every moment, preferably, but he could settle with every other.

No, what was he saying? This is Dean Winchester, the man who orders a tall black coffee every morning, the man who sleeps with almost every _girl_ he meets, why would he ever settle for Castiel?

"You talk _so_ much," Dean murmured. "If I'd known how much you talked, I wouldn't have let you kiss me the first time. I guess I can get used to it."

Castiel drew back. "Get used to it? Why would you get used to it?"

There was that eye roll again. "You're pretty damn slow for a pediatrics major," Dean grumbled. "You should come in, I'll show you."

A small smile. "No," Castiel said. "Dean, you're much better than that. If you want to, though, you can come in. I think there's a marathon of Star Trek on tonight."

"You watch Star Trek?"

"You don't?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Very slight smut.**

Who doesn't watch Star Trek?

Dean I'm-a-football-player-not-a-nerd Winchester doesn't watch Star Trek.

So they'd stolen a quick kiss before parting again, praying that wouldn't be it for them. At least, Castiel was. Dean wasn't like anyone else he'd dated. Dean was sarcastic and a bit of a dick, but that gaze he'd cast to his brother in the library was enough to let him know that that was just the hard shell. On the inside he was probably all mushy and emotional.

Like a melon.

Yeah, like a melon.

They'd pass in the hall, steal kisses; Dean would go to get coffee, they'd steal kisses over the counter. Every bit of them was thankful they were in Washington, not a southern state. Especially Dean, seeing as he could have gone to college somewhere in Kansas. No one seemed bothered by their affections, no more than any other kind of public display of it. It wasn't as if they _got into it_ in public—they hadn't at all, yet, actually—so mostly the pair was just given things like teasing "Get a room!"s or "turgleturgleturgle"s.

Somehow, a week or two later, Dean had managed to convince Castiel, to let him explain football. Castiel didn't understand the sport. Sweaty men in tights running around and tackling each other over something they call a ball but isn't? It's ridiculous. Of course, when he voiced this, he was cast a glare and gently smacked on the back of his head.

"It isn't just—"

Dean stopped. An expression of dismayed dawning crossed his face.

"_It is._"

Castiel laughed. "How about you keep explaining," he suggested, a teasing smile on his lips.

So Dean did. He told him about the way the field was set up and the way the players could do things on it. It was all very confusing to Castiel, who was easily bored by things he wasn't familiar with, so he started interrupting.

Maybe it was to see Dean's response to it.

Maybe it was to get Dean to kiss him again to shut him up.

Castiel honestly didn't know.

"So there's the touchdown, which is six points, and there's also a field goal and a safety, which aren't as many points—"

"Why?"

The player closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself for the conversation, it seemed. Then he said, "Because they're a lot harder to get."

"And why is that?"

Dean slammed his palm down on the table. "_Damnit,_ Cas, it's football, not philosophy!"

_Cas._

"Well, someone's grouchy today," Castiel joked.

Groaning, Dean gave him an exasperated look. "Don't you want to know what's going on?"

Castiel shrugged. "I'll get to see your ass in Spandex. That's enough for me."

Dean laughed. It was a full, genuine sound, smooth and sweet.

Are laughs supposed to remind one of chocolate?

Dean's reminded Castiel of chocolate. He had so many different laughs, but this laugh was white chocolate. Clean and rich and wonderful.

He'd stopped laughing now and was staring at Cas with green eyes so soft, oh so soft. Unable to resist, Castiel leaned over and planted his lips on Dean's. To his surprise, Dean grabbed his shirt and pulled him up, walking them until Cas' back was to a wall. Their lips moved together as they had before, but now it seemed to be _more._ Cas wasn't sure how he felt about it, but he instinctively pressed himself to Dean until Dean pressed back, their bodies flush. Unable to run his hands across his back, Dean placed one on his neck and the other under the hem of his shirt. Cas' ended up in Dean's hair, mussing it and loving the feeling of it. Dean's fingers felt hot as they slipped up across his stomach, fluttering and hovering and dancing about his skin. Cas was surprised when he felt Dean's tongue run along his bottom lip, gasping into his mouth. This gave Dean the opportunity to flick his tongue with his own, fingers darting down to start on the button of his jeans. Cas, reluctantly, pulled away so their lips only brushed, reaching down and taking a hold of Dean's hand, stilling it.

Those green eyes met blue ones again, darkened with lust.

_Fuck, that isn't fair! Those eyes aren't fair at all! _

Leaning in again and nipping Dean's lip gently, Cas murmured, "Not yet, Dean. Trust me. Please."

He'd expected him to purse his lips, push away, say 'you should head back, I'm sure you've got studying to do,' but he didn't. Dean gave him a faint nod, looking at Cas through his lashes. "I do," he breathed, kissing the corner of his mouth. "I'm… I'm not going to rush you, Cas."

Dean flushed, as if unaccustomed to saying whatever he was about to. "Um, Cas, did you uh… Did you want to show me Star Trek?"

**A/N: I know it's short, but I felt obliged to put something up. **


	4. Author's Note: READ

**READ THIS.**

**We're nowhere close, but this is angst. At least, it will be. **

**If self-harming, rape, or suicide triggers you, STOP READING WHEN I TELL YOU TO.**

**DON'T YOU DARE READ ON IF IT WILL TRIGGER YOU.**

**DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE.**

**Got it? Got it.**

**Fun stuff. **

**I've decided to change it, make it a bit more spn related instead of just using the characters, and I've decided Cas is still an angel. Dean finds out when Cas thinks he's at practice and stretches his wings and-oh, guess who sees that. Yeah, so, yeah. I haven't mentioned it up till now because I hadn't thought of it, so that's that. I've decided that the 'reason' I haven't is because Cas doesn't know for sure yet; he thinks he's studied too hard and needs sleep or something. **

**But you'll all know it's just because I'm an idiot and just hadn't thought of it.**

**So yeah, that's that. If you're expecting an all-human AU, you'd better leave.**

**Expect the unexpected, bitches.**

**(Term of endearment.)**

**Much love!**


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